


Winnie-the-Bruce

by cassiopea (nina_monk)



Series: The Burly Banner Series [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Belly Kink, Comedic angst, Feedist kink, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting Stuck, Poor Bruce Banner, Stuck character, maybe crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk/pseuds/cassiopea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce takes the short-cut to the food court, with disastrous results (Chubby Bruce Banner fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winnie-the-Bruce

Tony was a great admirer of Pepper’s decorator skills. Like, really - if she hadn’t been CEO of his company, he’d hire her for her interior design abilities like - _that_. Of course she could afford people to make the design decisions for the tower, but she was selfish enough to want it done her way. And don’t get him wrong, her way was perfect. Impeccable. 

Gorgeous.

But _practical_ –? Ehh, not so much.

He rolled his lips trying not to laugh, but Bruce could tell he was laughing anyway.

“Are you going to stand there gawking,” Bruce growled up at him, “or are you going to help me out?”

“How did you even…” Tony snorted. “No, I know how. I told Pepper those glass tubes were a bad idea. Sure, they look great, and the decorators were geniuses. But I knew it was too great of a temptation, and see? I was right. Everyone uses that gap between the panels as a wiggle-through to the food court, but no one actually uses the real doors because they’re on the other side of the hall.“

Bruce squirmed and grunted, but he was wedged tighter than a century-old cork in a dusty wine bottle. His head was free, and he could just about touch the outside edges of the four-foot long tunnel, but the rest of him refused to budge. He glanced up, giving Tony the foulest of all evil eyes, but there was no way in hell he was going anywhere. Not without a lot of help. 

“Tony, spare me the architectural lesson, okay? Just…pull me free.”

“On one condition,” Tony said. And he didn’t hide his grin. “Admit you’ve packed on the pounds.”

Bruce huffed, slightly affronted. “I have not! Well, nothing significant-–”

“Oh, ho, ho,” Tony said, wagging a finger at him. “Your khakis are burning to a crisp, Brucie. You’ve gotten yourself wedged in a narrow glass tube that half the tower uses as a shortcut to the other side of the building. It’s a snug fit for most, but it’s an impossible squeeze for…” Tony eyed Bruce and stroked his chin. “I’m estimating - for someone who’s around…two-sixty.” He held his hand in a so-so gesture. “Mm, give or take ten pounds.”

“Come on! I am _not_ two hundred sixty pounds!”

Tony snorted. “Big guy - and I mean that literally - you certainly are. You’re on a first name basis with most of the tower food court employees, as well as the Starbucks baristas - Venti vanilla frap with extra whip is your preferred morning, noon, and night snack. Even the lady at Tim Hortons asks me where you are, if she doesn’t see you for a couple days.”

Bruce cleared his throat and attempted to affect a nonchalance of calm. Which was pretty nigh impossible, considering. “Starbucks has the only decaf coffee I like,” he said defiantly. His (double) chin raised a millimeter higher. “And there’s nothing wrong with a few donuts here and there.”

“Never said there was,” Tony said. He snickered as Bruce squirmed harder and flailed his arms, to no avail. He was stuck, but good. “But you’ve definitely been enjoying yourself.” Not caring in the least, he reached into the tunnel and poked Bruce’s bloated chest, and wasn’t surprised when his finger sunk into doughy softness. “Add to that your whole ‘sedentary scientist’ schtick, and it’s no wonder you’re blimping up.”

Bruce made a noise. “Fine. Okay.”

“Okay…what?”

Bruce looked up at him with half-sheepish, half-resigned eyes. “You’re right, I got fat, and now my ass is stuck. Happy now?”

“Very.” He smirked a little when Bruce’s blush traveled his neck. “But you look all right. Besides, I’d rather see you fat and happy, than skinny and skittish. You getting fat just means you feel comfortable here, and I’m all for that.” He shrugged. “So what if you’re starting to look a little like the Stay-Puff Marshmallow man.”

“It’s Stay- _Puft_ ,” Bruce corrected before sighing again. He blinked and careened his neck so he could view part of the ceiling. “So what’s your big plan for getting me out of here, without destroying this-–” he gestured to the tunnel “-–sculptured thing?”

“Three words.” Tony held up three fingers in succession. “Winnie. The. Pooh.”

Bruce’s jaw dropped a little, and a small look of horror crossed his features as the realization hit. “Oh, no. No, no n--you _can’t_! Please don’t tell the-–”

“Don’t have a choice, Brucie,” Tony interrupted. “Besides.” He leaned a little to the left, and Bruce caught Clint and Natasha standing off to the side, waggling their fingers at him. Clint was snorting, trying really hard not to laugh, while Natasha elbowed him in the gut.

“They already know.”

“Oh, God.”

“We really should get Steve,” Natasha murmured. Bruce wiggled harder as she approached, but he couldn’t do anything as she reached in, testing the give between him and the sides. “You’re really stuck in there, aren’t you?”

“Please don’t tell Steve,” Bruce said, and he almost whined. “It’s bad enough.”

He heard a soft _click_ and groaned softly. “Clint,” Bruce grunted. “Please don’t tell me you just took my picture.”

“Okay. I won’t tell you.”

“Really, guys? _Really_ –-? Am I that much of a spectacle for you?”

“Maybe a little,” Clint said, shrugging. Natasha elbowed him again, hard. “What–? It’s been a slow day. This is my highlight.”

Bruce took a long, deep breath. “Just do what you need to do to get me out of here, and _hurry up_.”

They debated for a few minutes on the best way to go about getting him out, and Bruce felt his face flush each time he caught snippets of conversation from random Tower employees. He’d be the butt of their jokes for weeks.

He sighed angrily. “Speed it up, before I let the Hulk finish the job!”

“And bring down a half-ton of glass? No way, big guy.” Tony gestured to Clint and Natasha. “We’re trying to figure out if pushing or pulling’s better.”

“I think we should pull,” Natasha said. “More leverage.”

“It worked for Pooh,” Clint agreed.

Bruce gritted his teeth. “I’m not a stuffed animal!”

“No, but you’re definitely overstuffed, that’s for sure,” Tony murmured, but he didn’t say it in a mean way. He gave the tunnel a final critical nod, and moved Clint to the front and Natasha in the middle. “I’ll pull Natasha from the back.”

They tugged Bruce’s arms, but the result was a lot of swearing and sweat.

“Let’s you and me swap, Stark,” Clint said after a few moments. Unfortunately, the results were the same.

“Geez, how can it be this tough?” Clint wiped sweat from his forehead. “I mean, being _this_ stuck doesn’t make sense.”

Bruce groaned at them like an angry bull, finally at his limit and sick and tired from all the shoving. “I’ve been stuck for ten minutes. And you’ve only made it worse!” It felt tighter than ever, and even _better_ , the crowd they’d drawn began dispensing unwarranted advice.

“Butter? I hear butter works–”

“On glass artwork–? Pepper would kill us.”

“They just need leverage. A crowbar, or something.”

“Yeah, right, as if that wouldn’t break anything.”

“Crap,” Tony grumbled. “It’ll be an hour before maintenance gets here. Cleaning up sentient hazardous waste, yada, yada. Excuses, excuses. Am I CEO, or aren’t I? Oh, wait I’m not.”

Bruce was ready to scream. Hulk or no Hulk, he’d find a way to jiggle himself free, and then he’d knock some other heads togeth–

“What in the _world_?”

Bruce sighed and hung his head. Which was about the only thing he could do, considering how sore he was. Bruce couldn’t see him - he was behind him - and Bruce couldn’t twist his head. But he’d know that voice anywhere.

“Hello, Steve.”

“Bruce -? I mean, how–?”

Bruce saw Clint wave, and he narrowed his eyes. “Yo, Cap - you got my text?”

“You _texted_ him–?”

“Well, sort of,” Steve responded. Bruce twitched when Steve gently tugged his ankle. “He sent me your picture, with the letters, ‘L-O-L’ beneath it.” Bruce scowled at Clint, who simply shrugged.

Steve’s hands were a little warm when he touched a bare patch near Bruce’s calf. “I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly, and Bruce tried to shrug. At least it was the first compassionate thing he’d heard, regarding his unfortunate situation.

“I know this must be horribly embarrassing for you. What can I do to help?”

“Honestly?” Bruce sighed, resigned to his fate. “I’d feel a lot better without the crowd.”

“Done,” Steve said. He must’ve motioned to the other Avengers, because pretty soon everyone waved their hands, and shooed the crowd away.

“Sorry, Buddy,” Tony said, apologizing for the first time. Bruce glowered at him. “I know, I was an ass. Cap’s right, though. It’s not that funny anymore.”

“It wasn’t funny in the first place,” Bruce shot back. “But this is ridiculous. I don’t think I can wait another hour for the maintenance personnel, Tony.”

“Gotta take a piss?”

Bruce nodded sadly.

“Well, what have you done so far?” Steve asked, and Tony told him. “So pulling didn’t work. How about if I pull, and someone pushes?”

Bruce swallowed as he felt Steve wrap his arms around his exposed calves. “Uh, I’d still like the use of both legs after this,” he said nervously.

“Don’t worry, big guy,” Tony said, grinning. “I’m sure it’ll work, and you won’t lose a limb. Maybe something’ll get yanked out of socket, but still--”

_“Shit.”_

**

Steve told them to go slow, and gave them the signal of when to push, and when to adjust Bruce (when they could). Clint, Natasha, and Tony took turns pushing, while Steve pulled.

“Heave,” Steve announced, and Tony, who was the third to try, twisted Bruce’s shoulder a millimeter while pushing forward.

“Ho,” Tony said, and Bruce hissed at him because he kept giggling whenever he said ‘ho.’”

“Hey, big guy. No muss. You’re actually moving.”

And he was; Tony’s body was now part of the way in the tube, and Steve had a hold of Bruce’s waist. “I know,” Bruce muttered. “But still, Tony, this really…well. It sucks.”

Tony patted Bruce’s arm. “You gonna go on a diet after this?”

“I guess I should, right?”

Tony shook his head. “Only if you want. But don’t do it ‘cause you got embarrassed or you feel pressured to, all right?”

“Yeah, okay,” Bruce sighed. He smiled a little when Tony tapped his cheek.

“I think this could be the last tug,” Steve said from the other side.

“Oh, thank God,” Bruce groaned.

“No atheists in foxholes?”

“Something like that,” Bruce grumbled. He automatically tightened when Steve’s grip felt like a vice across his hips.

“Suck it in, Bruce,” Steve called, and Bruce pulled in his gut as much as he could. “Heave!”

Bruce swore he heard a loud _POP_ , even though everyone told him differently. With Steve’s last tug Bruce flew from Tony’s grasp and tumbled into Steve’s chest. His face began heating up as Natasha, Clint, and Tony cheered from the other side.

“Uh, thanks, Steve,” he said, crawling off Steve’s chest. Steve didn’t look mad - slightly amused, maybe. “Sorry for putting you through so much trouble.”

Steve waved him off and knocked the dust from his khakis. “I’m just glad I could help, without hurting you too much.”

Bruce rubbed his stomach, knowing he’d be sore for a while. He glanced at Clint and the rest through the tunnel. When Tony gave him two thumbs up, he sheepishly ducked his head. “Guess this means you’ll want me to start training with everyone, then.”

Steve chuckled and squeezed Bruce’s shoulder. “It's up to you, Bruce. I mean, sure, you’re…well. A little chubby.” Bruce rolled his lips and nodded. Steve was the king of understatement.

“But,” Steve continued, “Hulk’s the one in the field, and he’s the one who trains with us. If it bothers you, feel free. If not, and you’re comfortable with yourself, why worry?”

Bruce laughed awkwardly, but accepted the praise. “I think you’ve been hanging around Tony too long. You’re starting to sound like him.”

“Well,” Steve said, glancing through the tube. He rolled his eyes when Tony made “kissy lips” at him. “We can agree on you, at least. So don’t think about it. Just…don’t go through any more random tunnels, okay?”

Bruce could feel his cheeks warm, but he nodded. It felt good to know that the people he cared about wanted him to be happy and comfortable.

So in the end, he didn’t lose any weight. In fact…to be absolutely honest, he probably gained a few more. But he definitely chose the long route to the food court, from that moment on.


End file.
